Seven Reasons Why

by Neesa Hart

  Zack squelched a surge of guilt as he looked at the two plates of food. He felt strange about sending them to bed hungry, but remembered that nothing got the attention of a little boy like an empty stomach. He’d make it up to them in the morning with his mother’s recipe for French toast.

  August’s room, he knew, was at the end of the hall, where the coffee-can phone line connected with his bedroom in Jansen’s house. He hurried down the hall before the muffled conversations could weaken his resolve.

  The door was shut, but a light shone beneath. He kicked lightly with his foot. “August?” She didn’t answer. “Honey, let me in.”

  “You can go home now,” came the reply. “I’ll handle everything.”

  “There’s nothing to handle,” he assured her. “The boys are in bed. Can you let me in? My hands are full.”

  He heard her shuffling around inside the room. When the door finally opened, she gave him a disgruntled look. “What do you mean, they’re in bed?”

  He nodded in the direction of their closed doors. “In bed. I told them to quit acting like delinquents and go to sleep.”

  “It’s not their bedtime.”

  “It is tonight.” He shouldered his way past her. Her bedroom looked as he’d imagined. Sparse except for a few pictures on the wall, August’s room was filled with little tangible evidence of permanence. He half expected to find a packed suitcase in one of the corners. The small room was immaculate, the only homey touch a large handmade quilt on the four-poster bed. The quilt, he was willing to bet, had been left by Enid.

  August’s few cosmetics stood in perfectly neat rows on the vanity. Her shoes lay in excruciatingly straight lines in the bottom of the closet. Except for the navy linen suit jacket lying across the arm of a rocking chair, the room was in perfect order. Like a hotel, he thought. Years of practice had evidently taught her not to plan on longevity.

  “I brought you some food,” he said over his shoulder. “Thought you might be hungry.”

  “I’m not.” She pushed the door shut. “Why are you doing this?”

  Zack struggled. He wanted to tell her that he was doing it because she’d been scaring the wits out of him since that afternoon, but he sensed the delicacy of her mood. The look of defeat on her face when they entered the house had all but undone him. Now that the crisis with the boys was settled, his reactions were starting to kick in. She’d looked so hopeless, so destroyed, he’d wanted to smash something when he realized the powerless feeling her hurt had given him. “I’m hungry,” he finally said by way of explanation. Setting her plate on the small lamp table, he dropped into the comfortably padded chair. “Emma had already made dinner. I didn’t see why I should go home and eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

  Warily she approached him. “Why did you send the boys to bed? I could have handled it.”

  “I’m sure you could, but they were acting like little demons. You were up here, and I was downstairs. So I handled it. No sweat.”

  August had shed her suit jacket and shoes, and now wore only the cream silk blouse and narrow navy skirt. Zack’s hunger took on a new edge as he studied the shadow of lace just visible beneath the smooth fabric of her blouse. Slowly she walked toward him. “That’s not what I meant,” she said.

  “It isn’t?” He set his own plate down so that he could pry the cork from the wine bottle.

  “No.” She now stood in front of him. If he spread his knees a fraction of an inch, she could step between his thighs. “No,” she said again. “I meant, why are you taking care of us?”

  The cork slipped from the bottle with a loud pop. Zack met her gaze. “Because somebody has to,” he told her.

  August frowned at him. “Is that why—”

  Before she could finish the question, Zack’s arm snaked out to catch her around the waist. “No more questions tonight,” he said. “I think you got scared today, and I want to be here for you. Agreed?”

  She paused for long, nerve-racking seconds.

  “Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

  Finally, she shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

  Zack’s blood heated several degrees. With a firm, insistent pressure, he guided her onto his lap, taking care to position her on his good leg. “Fine. I don’t want to. I’m hungry.”

  “I’m too upset to be hungry.”

  With a slow, breathtaking precision, he kissed her. “Not that kind of hunger, querida,” he whispered against her lips. When he lifted his head, she made that funny little sound in the back of her throat, the one that drove him nuts. Her full mouth was soft and moist, and he had to summon what little control he possessed to keep from kissing her again. “In good time,” he whispered.

  Her eyes drifted open. In their bourbon-colored depths, he saw her confusion. With a slight smile, he pressed a forkful of lasagna between her still-parted lips. “Taste this and tell me if it’s spicy.”

  The way her mouth closed around the fork sent all the blood in his body rushing to his groin. Momentarily, his breathing stopped. His pulse shot through the roof. She licked her lips when he slid the fork free. “Not too much,” she told him.

  “Sure?” He pressed another forkful against her mouth. “I don’t like it if it’s too spicy.”

  She accepted the bite. “I thought you said your father was Italian,” she said when she’d swallowed.

  “I did.” He fed her another bite.

  “Then why don’t you like spicy food?”

  Zack shrugged. “Call me weird.” He lifted another forkful.

  This time, August plucked the fork from his hand. “Is this a ruse to force me to eat?”

  “Sort of,” he conceded. “Actually, it’s a ruse so I can watch you eat. It’s turning me on.”

  With a sly smile that sent his already heated hormones into overdrive, she shifted her leg against the pressure in his groin. “I noticed.”

  “Want to feed me now?” he asked, deliberately provocative.

  August reached for her plate. “I don’t think my hormones could take it.”

  “That’s the point.”

  She stuffed a forkful of lasagna in his mouth. “Shut up and chew, Counselor.”

  As they ate, Zack occasionally tipped the wineglass to her lips. The sensation of the shared wine, coupled with the intimate heat of her pressed against his pelvis, had his body aching for her by the time she finally put her plate aside. She took his plate, and placed it on the lamp table, then threaded her arms around his neck. “Thank you for what you’re doing, Zack.”

  He settled her more comfortably against his chest “What do you mean?”

  “I know you didn’t have to take on my woes, or my kids. I’m not sure what I’d do if I didn’t have you on my side.”

  He smoothed his hands over her back and hips. The fabric of her blouse bunched, whisper-soft, between his fingers. “I don’t want your gratitude.”

  “I know.” She pressed a kiss to his throat. Her fingers found, and loosened, the knot of his tie. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

  When she slid the tie loose, Zack’s hands tightened at her waist. “Is that why you’re doing this?”

  “No,” she assured him. “It’s got nothing to do with gratitude.” Slowly, she lifted her head. In the soft light from her bedside lamp, her hair gleamed like copper. A flame seemed to flicker in her gaze as she stared at him. “I just want to be close to you,” she whispered.

  Zack’s breath ebbed from his body in a low, guttural groan. “Sweet heaven.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, then held her head immobile as he lowered his mouth to hers. “I’m glad to hear it, querida,” he said. “The sparks were threatening to burn me alive.”

  The kiss was everything he’d wanted it to be for weeks. Always before, he’d felt an inexplicable urgency. Each time he held her had been like a stolen privilege. He’d never felt free to learn her shape, her taste, until the scent and feel of her filled him. So he explored the full contours of her mouth with deliberation, tak
ing his time, enjoying the taste of the wine where it lingered on her lips.

  August worked open the top three buttons of his shirt as he kissed her. The exotic feel of his mouth on her skin sent shivers racing along her already sensitized flesh. Heat seemed to pool in her stomach as his large hands rubbed the shape of her hips. Yearning for the feel of his body pressed fully to hers, she pressed herself closer to him.

  With a gasp of pain, Zack raised his head. “Ah…” he breathed, shifting his left leg from under the weight of hers.

  In horror, August realized what she’d done. “Oh, Zack, your leg. Did I hurt you?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She frowned at him. “I did” Automatically, her hands reached for his wound. “I didn’t think. I was trying to—”

  “Querida—” his fingers nudged her chin until she faced him “—I think I’d let you cut my leg off if I could convince you to keep seducing me.”

  With a slight smile, August pressed a tender hand to his thigh. “I don’t think the price is going to be quite that high,” she told him.

  Chapter Ten

  Zack sucked in a desperately needed breath. In the dim glow of her bedside lamp, August’s skin gleamed like polished ivory. Its softness beckoned to him to touch. He glided trembling fingertips along the velvet-smooth curve of her cheekbone. “Do you have any idea how much I want to make love to you?”

  A tiny crease formed on her forehead. “Zack—”

  He caressed the wrinkle away with his thumb. “I want you,” he said again, “in a thousand different ways. There’s a fire in you that I want to feel.” His lips rubbed one of her eyebrows. “There’s a passion I want to know. When I touch you, I feel it.”

  August’s body swayed against him. “I’m not sure—” she paused when his teeth found her earlobe “—not sure I’m ready for this.”

  Zack raised his head to capture her gaze. “Are you afraid?”

  Color tinted her cheeks—the same peach flush he’d been aching to see on the rest of her body. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m not in your league, you know. I’m just not sure I can pull this off.”

  His hand tightened on the curve of her waist. “Querida” if you were any better at driving me crazy, I’d have to be committed.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” When his thumb flicked across the lace-covered tip of her nipple, she squirmed in his lap. “I mean, you’re experienced. You—”

  With a half groan, Zack covered her mouth with his. When she favored him with a moan, he lifted his head. “I’m not experienced with you,” he told her. “With you it’s the first time.”

  Her resistance seemed to melt away like snow beneath the sun. August flowed against him. The fingers of her left hand threaded into his dark hair. She pressed her other hand flat against his chest. Through the fabric of his dress shirt, her palm felt exquisitely warm.

  He kissed her again. This time, he teased her lips with his tongue until she opened for him. The inside of her mouth was as hot and soft as he’d imagined. With a gentle suction, she pulled at his tongue. The erotic images that played through his mind had his body screaming for release.

  The need to feel more of her, for the press of her bare flesh against his, consumed him. His fingers drifted to the front of her blouse, where he gently pried loose the buttons. The skin beneath was as soft as the silk that covered it. A spray of freckles, as delightfully tempting as fairy dust, spread across the rounded top of each generous breast. With a sigh of utter pleasure, he wiped his tongue across the trail of cinnamon-colored flecks.

  Her fingers tightened on his scalp. “Zack.”

  “I love the taste of you,” he said, then kissed the valley between her full breasts. Above the ivory lace of her bra, the rounded edge of her peaked nipples taunted him. He flicked his tongue on one turgid peak. “You taste like brandy. It’s intoxicating.”

  His hand cupped her left breast while he continued to kiss the other. August clasped his large, tan hand in her smaller one, and pressed it hard against the full mound. The sight of his brown fingers on her pale flesh enflamed him. With a quick economy of motion, he tugged her blouse free of her waistband, only to find himself frustrated by the presence of another layer of silk. He grumbled something beneath his breath.

  With a slight laugh, August pulled the teddy up to give him access to her bare skin. “Don’t tell me women don’t wear teddies in New York.”

  “They wear them,” he muttered, shoving the fabric aside so that he could cup her naked breast in his hand. “I’ve just never seen them on a woman who’s so—” he paused as he squeezed the ripe weight of her breast “—generous.”

  August pinched his earlobe. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about other women.”

  He heard the touch of pique in her voice, and couldn’t resist the urge to taunt her. “I didn’t bring it up.” With the silk teddy now bunched above her breasts, they quivered in tantalizing proximity to his lips. “But now that you mention it, you are, undoubtedly, the most beautiful naked woman I’ve ever seen.” His gaze met hers. “Satisfied?”

  “I’m not naked,” she told him.

  His lips twitched. “Wanna be?”

  “Shut up and kiss me, Counselor.”

  Zack complied with a delighted laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a partner who made him laugh, a partner who felt real, who made him feel real. August’s heated response had him levering her off his lap as he maneuvered them both to the bed.

  His suit jacket and shirt fell away beneath her hands as he walked her backward. He had stripped away her blouse and teddy, and his hands had found the button of her skirt when the back of her knees bumped against the edge of the bed. With a steadying hand at the small of her back, he braced their fall with his knee. Finally, she lay fulllength on the soft quilt. He spread his body over her in an enveloping blanket of warmth. Nothing, his fevered brain realized, had ever felt quite as good as having August’s welcoming length cushioned beneath his body. A guttural groan tore from his chest. “You feel so good,” he said. “I can’t breathe, you feel so good.” Her hands skimmed the naked expanse of his chest, twining in the curling hairs, rubbing against the hard male nipples. “Touch me.” God, was that his voice? “Keep touching me.”

  August’s mouth pressed against his ear. “I want your lips,” she said. “Taste me.”

  A current of passion snaked through him, tensing and bunching his muscles into aching knots as he felt her guide his head to her breasts. His mouth had just fastened on the elongated bud of a dusky, peach-tinted nipple when he heard the soft knock on her door.

  “August?” came the small voice from the hall.

  A moment to absorb the incredible. He raised his head. The sound of her raspy breathing mingled with his own.

  “August?” It was Chip, he now realized.

  Zack sucked air into his lungs as August’s confused gaze met his. “It’s Chip,” he mouthed.

  “Oh, God.” Reality began to seep into her gaze. She pushed at his chest.

  Zack looked over his shoulder at the door. “What’s wrong, Chip?”

  “I wanna talk to August.”

  She pushed at Zack until he rolled onto his back. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” she asked.

  “Can I come in?” He rattled the latch.

  “Just a minute,” she said. “The door’s locked. I’m coming.”

  Zack frowned at her. “He's supposed to be in bed.”

  “Yeah, well—” she reached for his shirt “—children don’t always keep adult schedules.”

  “How do married couples ever manage to have more than one kid?”

  “Your parents had thirteen, didn’t they?” Slipping his shirt on, she buttoned it to her throat

  She would have rolled off the bed, but he grabbed her arm. “We’re not through.”

  Chip knocked again. “August?” His voice had taken on a desperate edge.

  “Make a bet?”

  “How can y
ou switch it off like this?” he asked, growing irritated. “I’m on fire.”

  Grabbing his hand, she pressed it to her chest. Beneath his fingers, he felt the erratic, racing beat of her heart. “So am I,” she whispered.

  He would have kissed her again, but Chip rattled the door latch once more. With a groan, August rolled from the bed to pad to the door.

  Zack glared at her retreating back. A part of him realized he needed to put this in perspective, that he wouldn’t die if he didn’t have her. But another part, the part that had been screaming warnings at him since the first day he saw her across the fence, was telling him that this was exactly the reason he couldn’t get involved with her. August needed a man who could make her and her kids a priority in his life. He’d sworn to himself years ago that no one would own him like that again.

  She unlocked the door, then opened it to find Chip, clutching the bear he’d won at the Fourth of July picnic, staring at her.

  “How come the door’s locked?”

  “Zack and I were having a private discussion,” she told him.

  Zack snorted. Chip glanced curiously from August to Zack, then back again. “You got on his shirt.”

  “You got on Lucas’s pajamas,” she retorted with an unflappable logic even Zack had to admire.

  Chip seemed to accept the explanation. “Can I come in?” he asked.

  August didn’t budge from the doorway. “What do you want? I thought Zack told you guys to go to bed.”

  “I’m scared,” Chip whispered.

  Perhaps it was the way his arms clung to the bear, or maybe it was the uncertain look in the wide blue eyes, but Zack knew as surely as he knew his own name that August couldn’t send the child back to bed. With a frustrated groan, he surged to his feet. “I guess I’ll go home,” he said. “I need a shower.”

  She barely seemed to notice him as she waved absently in his direction. She was already dropping to her knees in front of Chip. “Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked him.

  “Are you mad at us?” The question fell just short of a wail.